


F*ck

by WhatsHappeningCowboy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Character Study, M/M, One Shot, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsHappeningCowboy/pseuds/WhatsHappeningCowboy
Summary: MacCready promised someone he wouldn’t swear ever again. But sometimes you just can’t hold it back.





	

The first time MacCready swore was on the overpass at Quincy.

 

It choked out, his voice cracking with nausea, lifting his rifle up and away from the carnage below. Women, children; this wasn’t what they’d been told, wasn’t the soldiers and fighters they’d been trained to kill. His commanding officer grabbed the back of his head, shoved it back towards the destruction, held it still as he struggled and watched the town burn. A punch and a kick, a pistol pressed to the back of his neck and the snarled orders to  _ shoot or be shot, you little coward, worthless piece of shit wastelander.  _ The civilians were trying to flee, trying to escape, running straight into the ranks of foot soldiers the Gunners had sent down, shredding themselves climbing over their own barbed fencing in their desperation to get away. MacCready felt bile hot and acidic in the back of his mouth, let it stay there and burn, deserving the pain, the taste. He watched through the scope of his rifle as a lone figure led a ragtag group of survivors out of the back of one of the furthest buildings, towards the road and a waiting troop of Gunners. MacCready fired a single shot at them, watched it spark off the road before them, watched them turn away and take a different path; one that lead into darkness, and shadow, and sanctuary.

He’d joined the Gunners for the sake of his son, but he wasn’t prepared to send him back a tin of caps soaked with the blood of children.

When the sergeant moved away, MacCready stood, and fled into the night.

 

*

 

The second time MacCready swore was at the top of Greenetech Genetics.

 

It slipped out, his voice weak and shaky with fear as he pressed a filthy, blood-soaked bandana to the wound, praying under his breath and begging Chiv to wake up. The Courser had been tough, far tougher than either of them could have anticipated, and the ragged wound on Chiv’s side was staining his shirt crimson in a rapidly spreading pool. MacCready tugged the soaked fabric up to his armpits, easing off the pressure for the brief moment it took him to fumble a stimpak from his pack and jam it between Chiv’s ribs. He bent over his prone form, the Courser chip - their whole reason for this suicidal mission - all but forgotten, and whispered to whoever was listening that he’d do anything,  _ anything,  _ as long as Chiv would be okay. His heartbeat was weak, his chest rising and falling shallowly, and MacCready thought through a haze of fear that it was too late, he hadn’t done enough, he’d failed to protect those he loved as he had so many times before. But then Chiv’s eyes were fluttering weakly and his bloodied hand was coming up to gently touch the side of MacCready’s face and he was flashing him an admittedly weak version of his stupid cocky grin...but he was alive.

MacCready almost swore again, to tell him how much of an idiot he’d been, how scared he was, but this time he managed to hold it back.

They hobbled out of Greenetech with the key to the Institute in their hands.

 

*

 

The third time MacCready swore was in the basement of Med-Tek Research.

 

It whispered out, almost inaudible, as though even the tiniest sound would break the precious vial of medicine that Chiv placed carefully into his outstretched palm. They’d fought through Ferals for what felt like hours, miles upon miles of corridors and laboratories closing in around them as they wound into the depths of the building. Rubble and ruin and decay filled the halls, but hope was the treasure they sought; hope for Duncan, hope for his son. This one tiny vial, the long needle glinting in the electric emergency lighting, the word PREVENT stamped on the side in thick red lettering; the reason MacCready was here, so far from home. He unwound the scarf from around his neck, secured it as safely as he could inside his pack; and then threw his arms around Chiv in a desperate embrace, his heart feeling like it could burst out of his chest with gratitude and joy. It was returned tenfold, Chiv’s arms wrapping around his lean waist and holding him close, muffled expressions of thanks and happiness and elation mumbled into each other’s shoulders. Chiv’s hands slid to his shoulders, pulled him back to look him dead in the eye and tell him how proud of him he was. MacCready wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

When they finally let go, Chiv’s hand stayed firmly in MacCready’s, their fingers weaving together.

MacCready left Med-Tek with the medicine in his pack, and hope in his heart.

 

*

 

The fourth time MacCready swore was in Chiv’s bedroom at Red Rocket Truck Stop.

 

It dragged out, long and slow from the depths of his chest, hinged on a desperate moan, his back arching off the bed as Chiv moved on him, over him,  _ in  _ him. His mouth was hot and wet around the aching strain of his cock, his fingers slick and buried deep, and MacCready could already feel the delicious white-hot pressure building in the pit of his stomach. He reached up, gripped the sheets above him until his knuckles were white, his other hand tangling through Chiv’s dark messy hair. It was soft, surprisingly so; everything else about the man was hard angles and rough edges. MacCready gave a ragged cry as Chiv crooked his fingers, felt the man’s lips curve into a smile around him, nearly came undone right there. But then Chiv was moving, leaning up to rest a hand either side of his head, chest heavy and solid against his, and he pressed their mouths together in a kiss. MacCready felt the desperation behind it, the heady mix of Chiv’s own arousal and the deep longing that so rarely came to the surface; his need to be loved, to please MacCready in any way he could so that he wouldn’t ever, ever leave. As he pushed inside, the stretch-and-burn thick and dizzying, MacCready was certain he’d never, ever want to.

When he came, MacCready pulled Chiv as close as he could, and gasped promises over and over again.

Chiv pressed his lips to his ear, and whispered that he loved him.

 

*

 

The fifth time MacCready swore was on the roof of the Mass Fusion Building.

 

It burst out, awed and terrified, as the heat from the blast washed over them. A scalding wave that carried with it dirt, and dust, and radiation, and the burning fragments of the Institute and all it had stood for. They’d issued the evacuation order, but not all had obeyed; some stubborn scientists refusing to abandon their centuries-old home, some synths unable to disobey orders and break for the relay, some simply choosing death over their perceptions of the Wasteland. But MacCready knew it wasn’t the hellscape of death and poverty they’d built it up to be. The Institute had been closed-off, too frightened to accept the truth, too reluctant to reach out and try to improve the Commonwealth. They’d stayed underground, in hiding, shutting themselves further and further away from the surface world; and in doing so they’d missed out on the hope, the rebuilding, the companionship and strength and bonds that made the last of humankind move doggedly on despite the loss. They’d shut themselves off from humanity. The fight to get here and been long and hard, the toughest road they’d ever walked; but now, finally, it was over. The Commonwealth could rest safe, look to the future; begin the process of healing, of learning, and eventually the Institute would be nothing but a long-forgotten memory.

And he could look to  _ his  _ future, too.

As Chiv took his hand and the blast-flash faded from his blinking gaze, MacCready thought that maybe now, finally, his world could be at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Little short drabble thing I wrote the other day. This is not part of the ‘Chivalry’ canon, just a side thing I wrote for fun/practise using my Sole Survivor. I’m sharing it up here as an apology for being away and my update schedule being a bit messed up!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://whatshappeningcowboy.tumblr.com/)


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